


Wrong Droid For The Job

by ladygabe



Series: Interludes: A Series of Moments in Poe Dameron's Life [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Kes doesn't know what he's going to do with this child, Poe does what he wants, Total Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygabe/pseuds/ladygabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For his 12th birthday, Poe Dameron gets to pick out his first astromech. His father does not approve of his choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Droid For The Job

**Author's Note:**

> SerpentsKiss and I were discussing whether Poe had BB-8 customized, and she mentioned that "Poe's probably the sort that went 'It's orange! I need it!'" And so, this fic was born. 
> 
> Canon Note: A-Wings do not seem to have a place for an astromech droid. Pretend for this fic that they do.

They had not even reached the droid shop yet, but Poe was already walking on air. Kes Dameron resisted the urge to take a hold of his son’s hood to make sure he did not float off. The boy’s excitement made him single-minded; he did not seem to realize how easy a child his size could get lost in the hustle of the marketplace.

  
“R3-T5, please make sure he does not go darting off.” The cylindrical astromech, painted Rebel Red, beeped its understanding. It had once been a droid of battle, spending most of its time nested in Lieutenant Shara Bey’s A-Wing. In contrast, it now spent its days babysitting her young son, who had just turned twelve. It was a change of pace the droid did not mind.

  
The command had come none too soon. Poe spotted the sign, blocky letters next to the painted face of a protocol droid, and had started off at a dead run. R3-T5 caught the boy’s shirt with a service grip, yanking him back.

  
“R-Fiiiive!” Poe whined in a voice that had not yet begun to drop. Kes chuckled, amused by his son’s excitement.

  
“Calm down, Poe. The droids aren’t going anywhere.” He ignored his son’s pout, ruffling his hair and continuing towards the shop at a sedate pace. Poe struggled to go slow enough to keep his father (and, more importantly, R3-T5 and its service grip) happy. Kes opened the door to the shop, causing a bell to ring out.

  
“Welcome, welcome!” The voice echoed long before the owner came into view, toddling full-speed out from a motley assortment of shelves and display cases, filled with droids of all sizes. Larger droids ambled about between them, giving the shop a busy feeling despite the fact Kes and his son were the only customers. “Ah, Mr. Dameron! And little Poe, too.” The orange alien flashed three rows of teeth at them, clasping spindly fingers together in delight. “Always wonderful to see you. Has R3-T5 been having trouble with her calibrator again?”

  
Kes smiled at the shopkeeper, shaking his head. “No, your fix did her wonders. She’s been running as good as new since.” R3-T5 trilled its agreement.

  
“Mr. Ooblo!” Poe interjected before Kes could continue. “I get to pick out an astromech!” It was a day Poe had been waiting for for years. He had grown up at his mother’s knee, hearing stories about her fearless comrades and their daring astromechs. Caught up in the tales, he had spent his short lifetime imagining just what it would be like to have one of his own: a companion that would accompany him into the depths of space, trusting him with its life just as he would trust his own to it.

  
Ooblo grinned again, clapping Poe on the shoulder. “Well now, it is that time already? How quick you grow!”

  
“He’s been practicing with his Mom’s A-Wing,” Kes told the shopkeeper. “R3-T5 has been showing him the ropes, but we both thought it was time for him to have a companion of his own.”

  
“Going to be a fancy pilot like your mother was, huh?” Ooblo asked, already shooing the boy further into the shop.

  
“Yes.” Poe’s voice had become firm in determination. “I’m going to become the best pilot in the galaxy.” Ooblo chuckled as he called the astromech droids over for inspection.

  
“You’ve got some impressive competition there,” he warned him with a smile. “But I think you can do it. Now, have you thought about exactly what you want in a droid?”

  
Poe was already inspecting the mechs that had come forward. He began rattling off specifications, more knowledgeable at the age of twelve about the needs of a pilot than most adults. Ooblo and Kes watched him in amusement until Poe suddenly stopped mid-sentence, straightening up like he had been shocked.

  
“That one.” Kes frowned. Poe was focused not on one of the astromech droids, but on something peeking around one of the shelves. He saw a flash of orange as the droid Poe had riveted his attention on gave a startled beep and rolled back out of sight.

  
“Wait!” Poe scrambled over an old R2 unit and ran to catch up. “Don’t be afraid, come out here.” He crouched down, making himself look even smaller than he already was. He stayed there for a long moment, holding his hand out like he was trying to coax a wild animal out of the jungle.

  
There was an uncertain beep, and then a small, rotund droid rolled out of the shelving, looking nervous in the way only a mechanical being could. Poe looked like he had just fallen in love.

  
“Poe.” Kes was quick to interrupt what he could see was his son becoming attached. He had seen that look aimed at toys, ships, and not a small host of jungle creatures that were never meant to be pets. “That’s a BB unit. They’re not astromechs. They’re for surveillance.” No doubt that was why it was so nervous: it was programmed to be quick to protect itself, and the best way to do that was to flee.

  
“It’s perfect.” Obviously, Poe had not been listening.

  
“Ah, yes.” Ooblo rubbed the back of his rubbery head. “That is BB-8. It was a custom job. The client was very specific about the coloring. One of a kind, that one. But, alas, they never did pay.” Ooblo shook his head, clucking his tongue at the lost profits.

  
“Dad, look, it's orange! Like a flight suit!” Poe finally took notice of his father again, motioning at the BB unit. Its magnetic head turned to look at him as well.

  
“Droids can be painted, Poe,” Kes answered. “Did you hear me? I said it is not an astromech. You can’t put in it in the A-Wing.” Poe looked momentarily horrified, before turning back to the BB unit. It crooned a soft, almost sad acknowledgement.

  
Poe’s dark brows drew together in determination. “It’d fit. It's small enough to sit in the compartment.”

  
“But it doesn’t have any of the capabilities,” Kes answered, trying not to sound exasperated.

  
“It can be modified!” Poe looked to Ooblo, almost pleading. “Right?”

  
“Well, if you really wanted to, I suppose you could…” Poe flashed him a grin even as Kes frowned at him. Poe did not need any sort of encouragement.

  
“Would you like to be an astromech?” Poe was on his hands and knees, looking intently into the droid’s one eye. “You could go up in space with me, fly with me in my A-Wing!”

  
The droid seemed confused, sliding its head side-to-side before beeping something Kes didn’t catch.

  
“Poe, we’re here to get you an astromech, not a pet project. Why don’t you just get one of the nice R4 units?”

  
“You said I could get any droid I wanted.” Poe’s tone was challenging in a way Kes definitely recognized. It was genetic. _Shara Bey_ , he thought, glancing skywards. _Why did you leave me alone with this stubborn child?_

  
“I’m not going to win this, am I?” he muttered. R3-T5 helpfully ran the numbers and informed him that, according to past experiences, his calculated odds were very low. “Look, Poe, if that’s your choice, fine. But you can’t just bring it back when it won’t do what you want.”

  
The threat had no effect on Poe in the slightest. The young boy whooped in triumph and threw his arms around BB-8’s round body, causing the droid to make alarmed noises. Kes let his shoulders slump in defeat as he turned to hand his card to Ooblo.

  
It was difficult to stay annoyed as they left the shop, however. Kes watched Poe race this way and that, the little BB unit easily adjusting its direction to keep up with him. The droid seemed almost cheerful, as if it were glad that it had been chosen to go home with this boy.

  
At least it would eat less than one of Poe’s strays, Kes consoled himself. “Come on, trouble-maker,” he called, heading towards where their speeder was parked. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
